Star Trek: Deep Space Nine--The Cleanest Food To Find

And...good evening, fellow Trekkers, Trekkies, Treck-Necks, and Conversationalists all across the Final Frontier!

Here, true to the spirit of DS9, is my attempt at a "pure" character-oriented story. It is set a little while after "What You Leave Behind", but some time before Avatar and Rising Son. Jake is still on the station, Ezri is still a counselor, and (most importantly), certain "new" characters have just come onboard the station.

The Julian-Ezri relationship is a central element to the plot. I hope you all will enjoy how I chose to develop it.

So, without further ado....

Star Trek: Deep Space NineThe Cleanest Food To FindScene 1

Julian Bashir turned from the replicator, and grinned. “Do you trust me?”

Ezri Dax rested her chin on the backs of her hands, elbows on the table, and smiled. “Completely.”

Julian turned back to the replicator, and ordered, “Computer…two martinis. Now listen carefully—mix both drinks like this: Three measures of Gordon’s Gin, one of vodka, half a measure of Lillet Blanc—shaken over ice, with a thin slice of lemon peel.”

The computer chirped…and the drinks appeared. Bashir picked them up—very carefully, Ezri noted—and brought them to the table, setting them down as he took a seat.

The two were in Julian’s quarters. They both had finished their shifts, and they were just now ready to relax…together.

Julian raised his glass. “To…tomorrow: may it never die.”

Ezri raised her own glass, clicking it with Julian’s…and took a sip. She let it rest on her tongue for a few moments, to savor the taste, and swallowed.

Julian leaned forward slightly. “What do you think?”

Ezri smiled. “You know…that’s not bad! Where’d you get the recipe?”

Julian returned the smile. “I read it in a book once.”

Ezri narrowed her eyes in amusement. “A book.”

“An old Earth spy novel. Actually, the recipe has Kina Lillet, but…after the book was published….”

She nodded. “They changed the name?”

“Something like that.”

Ezri looked down at the drink. “Didn’t I…serve something like this when Vic’s place was…?”

“Ah, that wasn’t quite the same thing. That was stirred. This one’s shaken.”

Ezri looked up, her smile growing. “There’s a difference?”

Bashir glanced off to the side, and grinned. “It…would take too long to explain.”

Ezri chuckled, and set the drink down. “So…how was your day?”

Bashir sighed, and leaned back. “Well, let’s see…most of it was spent lecturing those new transfers on the intricacies of the Infirmary—and, oh, yes…one of my new nurses has the most interesting crush on me.”

Ezri’s eyes widened. “No kidding!”

“No…” Bashir sighed. “Now, under normal circumstances, I would humor her, at the very least, but—she…”

“Let me guess: she kept it up, and couldn’t take a hint.”

“Exactly. And I mean, I tried to tell her I’m already taken, however….”

Ezri held up a hand. “Julian…it’ll pass. She’ll catch on sooner or later.”

“I hope so….” Julian paused for a moment, and then asked, “So how did your day go?”

Ezri frowned. “Jake stopped by my office. He’s still recovering from Benjamin’s…‘disappearance’. We talked a bit…and I told him a few stories of Curzon’s….”

Julian leaned forward again, smirking. “What stories?”

Ezri smiled mischievously. “It…would take too long to explain.”

Bashir shook his head, chuckling. “Of course….”

“Anyway…he’s all right, now—at least until the next time he stops by.” Ezri shrugged. “Other than that…nothing to report.”

Julian nodded. “You know, Ezri…I was wondering—one of my new MD’s…well, you might want to look at him. He seems a little…reclusive.”

Ezri gave him a blank stare. “Reclusive….”

“He…well, he’s friendly enough, but he seems, somehow…isolated from everyone.”

“You mean there’s a wall?”

“I mean there’s a wall.”

Ezri shrugged. “Maybe that’s just his personality—I mean…”

“I thought so, too—but then…I took the liberty of striking up a…conversation with him. He seemed friendly enough, I think—but…then I looked into his eyes.” Julian paused, and Ezri could see the intensity in his gaze as he locked eyes with her. “He’s hurting, Ezri. It’s…as if something took all the joy out of his life…and nothing’s in its place.”

Ezri frowned. “Any idea what caused that?”

“I…think I have something…. I checked his record. As it turns out, he was part of an investigation into a possible act of sabotage aboard the Enterprise, nine years ago. You may have heard of it—it was the incident that forced Admiral Satie to resign her commission.”

Ezri nodded. “The ‘witch-hunt’?”

Bashir nodded.

“Yeah, I remember something about that—didn’t she start asking suspects about things that had nothing to do with the investigation, or…something?”

“Oh…” Ezri whispered, as she glanced down at the table, waiting for him to continue.

“His name is Simon Tarses. Satie’s probing nearly destroyed his career…when she pressured him into inadvertently revealing that his grandfather was a Romulan.”

She looked up. “There’s no crime in that.”

“Not unless you lie about it, and falsify your entrance exam so that it says the grandfather was a Vulcan. Still,” Bashir sighed, “I can’t help but feel for him….”

Ezri nodded. “Because of what happened to you.”

“Yes….”

Ezri sighed, and looked down again, for a moment. When she looked up, she asked, “So, what happened to him?”

“He was suspended for six months. After that, he returned to the Enterprise. Now, his file claims that he’s come to terms with his heritage, but….”

Ezri nodded. “…But, that experience must still have been painful for him…to say the least.”

Julian leaned back, and shook his head. “He nearly lost his career. The only reason he was allowed back into Starfleet was because Captain Picard put in a good word for him. As it is…he’s irreparably tarnished by what happened. I guess…it’s possible that after the Enterprise was destroyed…he didn’t really have anywhere else to go…and feel like he was wanted.”

Ezri looked at him for a while. Julian was, she always knew, a wonderful doctor—and now, she was reminded why. He was a man who truly cared…truly wanted to make a difference.

It was…why she loved him.

She smiled. “A pity you wasted your career in medicine, Julian—you would’ve made a fair counselor.”

Julian blinked. “Fair…?”

And then…he returned the smile. They shared a chuckle, albeit a brief one, so as not to ruin the seriousness of the issue at hand.

Ezri nodded. “I’ll look into it.”

“Thank you, Ezri.”

Ezri shrugged. “Well…that’s what I’m here, for—I guess.”

Julian smiled, and raised his glass in salute.

* * *​

[LEFT](note: Bond fans will be pleased to know that, yes--it is the iconic drink that you're thinking of. Call it a little homage to Bashir's spy program, which I feel confident Ezri's partaken in on a rather regular basis....)[/LEFT]

Nice start, Rush. I think you're doing fine with a character-oriented story! I agree with Nerys that you present Bashir and Ezri as a convincing couple; the trust and general comfort they show around one another is indeed evident. I find the conversation convincing, too.

The link between Bashir and Tarses-- their respective career-threatening cover-ups --is also certainly worthy of exploration.

Now that things are settling down and I can finally get to read and comment on all these fine stories, I'm glad that I read this. You do an excellent job here conveying the relationship of these canon characters. I could very easily imagine their dialogue sounding like this in the series. I also like how you've brought Tarses in--a haunted individual--as are both Bashir and Dax. Between the two of them, I have a feeling that they'll get Tarses back on his feet again.

He moved to the side, to let her enter. The cabin had a Spartan quality about it—nothing fancy, no decorations, few personal effects, just…basic necessities. There were a few padds on a table, but…that was it. Aside from the furniture—bed, couch, the table with two chairs, that sort of thing—one could almost say it wasn’t being used at all.

Ezri stopped at one of the chairs. “May I sit down?”

“Oh—sure!”

She sat, crossing her legs, putting her hands in her lap. Tarses stood before her, as if he couldn’t bring himself to adopt any casual posture whatsoever.

Ezri smiled again. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

“Ah…” he cleared his throat. “Don’t take this wrong, Counselor—”

“Call me Ezri.”

“Oh…well…I don’t think I should….”

“Oh, it’s perfectly fine. I mean…” as she gave a light shrug, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“O-okay, well…Ezri…aren’t you doing this all wrong?”

Ezri frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well…it’s just…” Tarses swallowed, and the words that followed came out rushed. “You see, most of the other counselors I’ve seen…first they speak with the commanding officer of…wherever I am…in order to set up an appointment. Then, they have the CO call me, and tell me of the need for me to see a counselor. Then, the CO tells me that we have the most excellent counselor here, so they recommend that I go see her…or him. Usually it’s a girl. I wonder why?”

Ezri shrugged.

“Anyway…I’m ordered to go there, and the counselor starts off telling me how nice of me it is to come, and am I still okay about my Romulan Heritage. And then…” as his tone became less nervous, and began to sound a little frustrated—and bitter, “The grilling begins, and they ask me whether I regret my lying to the Academy Commandant, and why I did it, and whether I would do it again, and why on Earth I stayed in Starfleet after that suspension. Then—as I’m stumbling over that last one, they dare to ask me—to my face—how I honestly expect to move on with my career…with a black mark like that. That’s the way it’s done!”

But he stopped, his features softened again, and he looked Ezri in the eye. She held his gaze, waiting for him to continue.

Tarses sighed. “…only not this time.”

Ezri shook her head. “Not this time,” she replied, in a quiet, gentle tone, letting him know she was serious.

Tarses just looked at her, clearly fighting not to show his relief.

Ezri cleared her throat. “Uh, listen, kid…I think—”

Simon blinked. “‘Kid’?”

Ezri smiled at his reaction. Actually, she had done it on purpose—to provoke this kind of effect. The more he loosened up to her, the better.

Try ten years younger…. Ezri briefly looked down, and then returned the laugh as she directed her gaze back to him. “Well, I guess that depends on which ‘me’ you’re talking about.” She pointed to the couch. “Now, sit…down.”

Tarses slowly walked to the couch, and sat down—stiff as a Vulcan.

Ezri sighed in amusement. “At ease, Simon. This is not a dressing-down of any kind—no matter what your past experiences taught you to expect.”

Simon frowned, but he did relax…a little. Enough to ask another question.

“So…you’re Ezri…Dax?”

Ezri nodded. “That’s right.”

“You know…I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Which?”

“Pardon?”

“Which ‘me’? Ezri or Dax?”

“Oh, well, uh…both, actually. When I was a cadet…I read about all the famous negotiations and talks conducted by Curzon Dax. I…how did you get the—?”

“Maybe we can talk about that another time. Now…exactly what did you hear about me? As in…Ezri.”

“And that you…braved a great maelstrom filled with…lightning and fire…for four days and nights…and that, just when your power reserves were all but gone, a final explosion unleashed a great shockwave that threw your vessel to the far side of the region—where you saw the derelict escape pod adrift before you….”

Ezri stared at him, completely blank. “…‘Four days and nights’….”

Simon frowned. “I’m…pretty sure it was four—but some people say it was eleven. Was it eleven?”

Ezri felt her eyes widen. “You’re…kidding!”

“You…didn’t…?”

Ezri sighed, shaking her head. “Simon…first, it was a few hours, at most, before I found Worf’s pod. Second, it wasn’t a ‘maelstrom’—it was a series of solar flares, like you usually find in there.”

“Well…that doesn’t exactly sound like a smooth ride.”

“Oh, it wasn’t—not at all. But…I certainly wasn’t thrown across the Badlands. I may have felt like I was—but I wasn’t.”

“Oh…well…” Simon gave a sheepish chuckle. “It was a good embellishment, anyway.”

“And I’ll bet it came from Worf, too….” Ezri leaned back. “His idea of a joke, I guess….”

“But…after you rescued him…you were shot down by the Jem’Hadar....”

“Yeah, that part is true.”

“And were captured by the Breen…just as their new alliance with the Dominion was forming….”

“Correct.”

“And you were taken to Cardassia and—”

“All, right, Mister, I get the point. You think I’m a…heroine, or something.”

Simon looked down and chuckled. “You…kind of are.”

“Really?” Ezri asked, keeping her tone dry.

The man sighed. “Uh…well, you could say, Counselor, that…It wasn’t that I didn’t think you were worthy of my presence. It’s that…uh…” He blushed, and chucked again, “…I didn’t think I was worthy of yours.”

Ezri had to fight the impulse to roll her eyes. Great. He actually means it. Thanks a lot, Worf—I save your neck and the next thing you know….

But then…another thought occurred to her.

“You know, Simon…I think I just realized something.”

“Uh…what?”

“You’re scared of me.”

He blinked. “What?”

Ezri sighed, and leaned forward. “First, you refuse to ease up in front of me until I insist. Second, you go on a rant about how badly other counselors treat you. And finally…you try to flatter me with hero-worship. At any rate…you’re trying your best to keep me from doing what you’re afraid I’ll do—whatever that is….”

“I don’t…know what you’re talking about.”

“What’s the matter, kid? Why should you be so afraid of my trying to be friends?”

“Because—” Simon briefly showed fire in his eyes…but just as quickly, it vanished. He leaned back into his seat and shook his head. “…Because I’ve had my share of ‘friends’…who keep telling me they only want to help…and then…they start…trying to get into my head, and….”

He broke off, and looked at her again.

Ezri shook her head. “Look…maybe those other counselors were like that…but I’m not.”

“You’re…not?”

“Well…” she amended with a smile, “…not unless I have to be. And I don’t think I have to be, not here…not now.”

Simon stared at her for a long time, and for a moment, Ezri saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes. But then he shook his head, and let his shoulders fall. “All right…all right…I’ll go through it all again…one more time. But I just…I don’t want to get my hopes up. Otherwise, I’ll open up and…and then—”

“I won’t pry into you, Simon. When you want to open up to me, you’ll open up—but I won’t rush you. I promise.”

Simon gave a slow, silent gasp. “You…you mean it…don’t you?”

Ezri nodded solemnly. “Yes….”

She saw him lean back, take a deep breath, and slowly let it out. As he did so, Ezri could have sworn that his lip was quivering. He…looked like he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

She brought her chair closer to the couch. “Now…let’s hear about you.”

“What…what do you want to know?”

Ezri smiled. “I don’t care. Just…” as she gently put a hand on his shoulder, “Say what you want to say—not what you think I want to hear.”

Simon stared at her. His eyes began to widen. Then…he broke his gaze, and stared at the ground as he wrung his hands.

Ezri could see the conflict going on—she could see that…he was struggling…struggling not to let his feelings be known. He was desperate not to open up to her—and she knew…that it was more than just fear. A lot more.

Finally, Simon let out a sigh. “There’s…nothing to say, Counselor.”

Ezri nodded. “I understand.” She rose from her seat, and headed for the door. But just before she left, she turned to him. “When there is…let me know.”

Tarses swallowed, and looked up to meet her gaze. “I will,” he said, his voice revealing a strength that had not been there before. And Ezri knew…that this time…he meant it.

As a depiction of counselling in action, that's a damn site more convincing than anything we saw in TNG.

I was half convinced when Julian ordered the vodka Martinis that he would name it an 'Ezri', in her honour. But if he is as familiar with Bond as he seems, he'll probably realize why this isn't a good idea!

^He is. But probably the only real similarity between Ezri and Vesper is her fun cameraderie with Bashir/Bond, so...I wouldn't think Julian would have anything to worry about. Unfortunately, the martini already has a name...courtesy of his predecessor....

And, yes--Ezri's no Betazoid, she doesn't have the shortcut of "sensing" all she needs to know--so she uses her own methods, which would therefore be less surreal, and more believable....

Nice start, Rush. I think you're doing fine with a character-oriented story! I agree with Nerys that you present Bashir and Ezri as a convincing couple; the trust and general comfort they show around one another is indeed evident. I find the conversation convincing, too.

The link between Bashir and Tarses-- their respective career-threatening cover-ups --is also certainly worthy of exploration.

Click to expand...

I just read this today, and I agree. I can't wait to see where you take this...keep going..or is it..ditto!

Okay. This next section will be pretty long, as well. Two scenes, but they go together. In the second scene, I have a few nice moments where Ezri and Julian communicate non-verbally. I hope you'll enjoy the touch....

Star Trek: Deep Space NineThe Cleanest Food To FindScenes 5 & 6

The first thing Julian Bashir noticed about Simon Tarses as his new assistant MD reported for duty the next morning…was that the man was actually holding his shoulders a little higher than he had seen him last. He looked as if the foundations of his confidence were finally starting to repair.

Bashir smiled. “So…you feeling up to specs, Mr. Tarses?”

Tarses turned to him, and gave a small smile. “I…suppose so, Doctor. Why wouldn’t I be, sir?”

Bashir shrugged. “Well, it wouldn’t do if I needed to examine your head, now would it?”

Tarses stopped short. And then he smiled sheepishly, and shook his head. “I guess…word gets around quickly here.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that quickly….”

“Then…?”

“Oh, let’s just say…I have a good working relationship with Counselor Dax.”

“Well—um…”

“Don’t worry—if you prefer to keep it private, she said she wouldn’t tell anyone else. She merely made an exception in my case.”

Tarses nodded slowly. “…Because of your good working relationship.”

Still smiling, Bashir looked off to the side. “Oh…I’d like to think so….”

He turned back to the other doctor. “Suffice it to say, Lieutenant…that you’re in good hands. You can count on that.”

Tarses stared at him for a moment. “Did…did you both plan that…that session?”

Bashir frowned. “Beg pardon?”

“It just...seems a little convenient that my...routine counseling session would be...the first of the series....”

“Well, one…could say that.”

The man’s lip tightened.

Bashir froze. Did he just make a terrible mistake?

Tarses fell onto one of the Infirmary cots, gave a big sigh, and shook his head. And then…he actually laughed.

“… ‘Standard procedure for any new additions to the senior staff of essential departments’…”

As he got his laughter under control, he looked up at Bashir. “You know…so help me…I actually believed her….”

Bashir gave a relieved smile. “She…wasn’t exactly kidding, you know. I really am scheduling counseling sessions for my staff—you were simply the first.”

Tarses paused, and looked deep in thought for a while. Finally, he got up. “Well…I guess I’d better get to work.”

“Of course….”

Julian watched him work. The man had obviously made a bit of progress—he wasn’t nearly as reclusive as he’d been before. Still…Bashir could see there was a great deal of work left for Ezri.

Simon Tarses seemed like a man who engrossed himself in his work in an unnatural way—unnatural, in that he seemed to make it an obsession, excluding everything else from his notice so long as he was on duty—their conversation notwithstanding.

It was as if…

* * *
​

“…as if he’s hiding.”

They were in Quark’s again, at their regular table.

Ezri frowned. “‘Hiding’…?”

Julian leaned back, a dejected look on his face. “I don’t know…I’m not the counselor, after all.”

Ezri sighed. “Well, Julian…these things take time. My session with him wasn’t supposed to cure him by itself. You have to plant the seed first…and then water it, little by little…and after a while…you can watch it sprout…and grow. But until then…”

“I know…I know….” Julian rubbed his forehead, as if from exhaustion. Then…he smiled. “How on Earth can you be so…patient?”

Ezri chuckled. “I…guess I’ve had a lot of practice.”

Julian nodded. Suddenly, his expression changed to one of…bewilderment.

Ezri frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Julian raised his eyebrows. “Look who’s here.”

Ezri turned—and saw Simon Tarses enter the bar. She watched as he walked over to the counter, taking a stool…and she wasn’t surprised when she noticed that the stool he picked put him at a significant distance from anyone else nearby.

She wasn’t surprised…but it still saddened her. She turned to Julian. “I’ll be right back.”

Julian nodded. “Good luck.”

“Thanks…” Ezri headed for a stool next to Simon’s, where she sat down with a smile. “Hi!”

Simon stared down at the counter, grinning. “So…‘It’s just a counseling session—standard procedure for any new additions to the senior staff of essential departments.’” He turned to her, and raised an eyebrow. “‘You understand.’”

Ezri raised her palms in surrender. “All right—guilty as charged.”

Simon shook his head. His smile faded. “So…how much of what you’d said to me…yesterday…all that you promised me…how much of that was true, anyway?”

Ezri felt her own smile vanish, as she lowered her arms, and stared him in the eye. “Every word.”

Simon turned away, and sighed. “I…I wish I could believe you…. I want to believe you…but….”

“Let me put it this way, Simon: suppose I had told you everything—that I was talking to you just for you, and that I wasn’t going to interview the others on Dr. Bashir’s staff until a later date. What would you have thought?”

He shook his head again. “I don’t know….”

“Well, I know what I’d think, if I were in you’re shoes: ‘This counselor is singling me out, and just wants to talk to me because she’s heard of me, she knows all about what’s been done to me…and she’s just going to grill me all about that.”

“I thought that anyway.”

“Maybe so…but you have to admit, you had less of an excuse to avoid me.”

Simon gave a sigh, and turned to face her again. “Good point.”

Ezri frowned, and her tone grew more serious. “Simon…one of the rules I’ve set for myself long ago is: I…never…lie. My integrity means a lot to me. I would never compromise it…for anything.”

Julian looked up at the man, and smiled. “Ah, Dr. Tarses! How are you, this evening?”

Simon nodded. “I’m fine, Doctor. Miss Dax was just…”

Ezri smiled, and finished for him. “I was wondering if he could sit with us for a while.”

Julian frowned at her. You sure about this?

Ezri nodded. Trust me.

Julian turned to Simon with a grin. “Of course! By all means, sit down.” He turned to the Ferengi waiter nearest to them. “Broik—let’s have a round of drinks!” He turned back to Simon, “What would you like?”

Julian smiled. “Well, speaking for myself…I remember when I first came here. You would not believe my excitement about this assignment. I came here, and I said to myself, ‘This will be perfect—real…frontier medicine.’”

“Ah…‘frontier medicine’?”

“Well…seven years ago, this region was a different place. Bajor was…isolated, in a sense…separate from the rest of the galaxy. Few, if any, gave it any real thought until the wormhole was discovered.” Julian leaned forward, grinning, as if getting to the best part. “As far as I was concerned…this sector…was the wilderness…where heroes are made.”

Simon shrugged. “I…take it the wormhole changed all that?”

“It did—for the better. I thought to myself, ‘At last—here is the chance I’ve been looking for. The chance to be the first doctor to encounter a new disease…and to cure it. To gain knowledge which no doctor has ever gained before. To publish paper after paper about my discoveries—and far better, to finally be…the hero I desired so much to be….”

And then…Julian sighed, and leaned back. “Shows you how much I knew….”

Simon looked at him, apparently unsure of what to make of this. “So…you became a doctor…to be famous?”

Slowly, Julian shook his head. “No…thank goodness.”

Broik came back with the drinks, set each one down, and walked off.

Ezri reached for her drink right away. Julian did the same. Simon, however, took his drink slowly…and stared down into it, not bothering to take a sip.

All right, Ezri thought, Time to join in. “Simon, is there a reason that you can’t accept that you’re good?”

“No…there’s a reason that I can’t accept that that’s his reason for wanting me.”

“Oh?” Julian leaned back and crossed his arms, raising an impatient eyebrow. “And that would be…?”

Simon’s hand squeezed his mug. “Do I…have to spell it out?”

Ezri nodded. “I think that would be best.”

He sighed. “All right…fine. I’ll say it. I’m a pariah. Oh, I was accepted back onto the Enterprise well enough, sure. But after that, I go from post to post—and does everyone else treat me like that? Oh, no. ‘You’re no good, Tarses—you’re a sham. You’re a liar—you’re a disgrace—you have no place here, good bye!’” As if to punctuate this line, Simon raised him mug, and drank.

Julian turned to Ezri, with a tired look. You’d better handle this….

Ezri nodded. She turned to Simon—and sighed. “Well…looks like we have a problem.”

“I…guess you could say that.”

“In all seriousness…is that what this is all about? Have you been told that you’re no good so much…that you’re actually starting to believe—that you’re just not worthy of anyone’s respect?”

“Look, Counselor…Doctor…I’m very appreciative what you two are trying to do. Really, I am. But…look, Ezri, uh…you said, a little bit ago, that honesty means a lot to you.”

“It does.”

“Well…it means a lot to me, too—and…look, I have to be honest with myself: I made a big mistake at the very beginning of my career. And now…I’m paying the price. I don’t deserve to be accepted anywhere—as a good doctor, anyway. And I never will be—and that’s that.”

Julian shook his head, puzzled. “And yet…you’re still in Starfleet. You went on to peruse a doctorate—and got it. Are you really so…masochistic…as to continue on a path where you think you have no chance?”

Simon looked down at his mug again. When he brought himself to speak, it was in a pained near-whisper. “No….”

Finally, she understood—why the man was so very reluctant to accept any offer of help—from her, from Julian, or from anyone else. And just like that…she found herself feeling a growing sense of respect for Simon Tarses.

Julian frowned, apparently unsure of what to make of her reaction. She made a mental note to explain later.

She turned back to Simon, a small, reassuring smile on her face. “I think…you should listen to that voice a little more.”

Simon looked up, and stared at her, his face completely unreadable. And then…he stood up, downed the rest of his drink, and said, “Well…It’s been fun. Enjoy your drinks, you two. Have a pleasant evening. Now—if you’ll excuse me….”

He put his empty mug on the tray of a passing waiter—and rushed off, out of the bar.

Julian began to stand—but Ezri’s hand shot up, grabbing his shoulder, stopping him. He looked at her in bewilderment.

Special thanks to the boys at Memory Beta for all the info on Simon's career.

Enjoy!

Star Trek: Deep Space NineThe Cleanest Food To FindScene 7

The next morning, Bashir arrived early at the Infirmary. His mind was racing—reflecting over what had happened the night before. He held nothing but sympathy for Simon Tarses—after all, he himself had gone through a lot of the sort of conflicts the other doctor had apparently faced. And even the conflicts he did not share…well, Bashir could guess that being treated as an outcast would do a great deal of internal damage to a man.

But…surely Simon understood that they were trying to help him. So…why wasn’t he letting them? Why was he so…closed to them?

Was it pride? As far as Bashir was concerned, that certainly wasn’t it. The man behaved as if any ego he’d once possessed had been driven away long ago.

But then…what was it?

“I…hope I’m not interrupting.”

He turned, to see Ezri standing in the doorway of the Infirmary.

Julian smiled. He always liked to see her standing there…as if at his doorstep, looking in. She looked absolutely radiant—as she always did, but the mental picture increased it tenfold. “Of course not, Ezri. Come in!”

Ezri returned the smile, and briefly glanced down before entering. “So…how are things around here?”

“Well…I suppose I’m just waiting for Tarses to come in.”

Ezri nodded. “So am I. I want to see how our talk last night affected him.”

“Yes…about last night—Ezri, I’d meant to ask you something.”

“Hmm?”

“I was wondering…well, shortly before he left, I…noticed that you seemed to be…deep in thought, for a moment.”

“Oh—yes. I was.”

“It was after he said that something inside him was telling him not to give up, despite all that’s happened….”

Ezri sighed, and slowly nodded. “Yeah…I forgot to tell you, I guess.”

Bashir stared at her. “Tell me…?”

Ezri turned, and walked to a nearby cot, where she sat down on the edge. “Julian…have you ever felt so lost…so trapped…that you feel there’s no way out? That…all the events of your life have driven you to this—and that there is no alternative…no escape…just…the knowledge that you must remain, and fight…even though you feel you can’t?”

Julian frowned. “Sometimes…I guess.”

“Well…take that feeling…and multiply it by three or four, and…you have something similar to what he’s going through.”

Julian walked over to the cot. “Ezri…I understand all that. But…what I don’t understand is: why can’t he accept—”

Julian broke his gaze, trying to run her logic through his mind. After a moment, he sighed, and turned back to her. “Ezri…I’m trying my best to follow you. And usually, I can. But…” and he felt a smile, “I’m afraid I’m only a fair counselor, after all.”

Ezri tried to return the smile, but apparently couldn’t. “Well…basically, the reason he doesn’t want our help…is that he’s afraid that if he admits to himself that he needs our help…it’ll hurt him even more.”

Julian frowned, but nodded for her to continue.

“I guess you could say…he’s trying to hold on to his dignity. He doesn’t want pity…he doesn’t want people to feel sorry for him, when he doesn’t think he deserves that….”

She shook her head, and Bashir could see the sadness in her eyes. “Julian…he’s punishing himself for what he did—but… he’s also trying to move on. He wants to move on. He just…doesn’t know how.”

Bashir looked away for a moment. Then, he sat down on the cot, right beside Ezri. “Well…is that it then? Is there…nothing we can do?”

Ezri turned to him. “Oh…of course not…. Julian, no matter what it takes, we have to help him through this. He has to learn how to move on with his life—and, whether he likes it or not, he needs my help for that.”

“But if he won’t accept it…”

“I…think he is, without realizing it. It just…” Ezri shrugged. “We have to build up his confidence, somehow. And…right now, you’re the best one to do that.”

Julian blinked. “Me?”

“You told him you accepted his posting because he’s a good doctor. Now, what you have to do…is prove it to him. Convince him of that…and we’ll have set him on the right track.”

“Well…I have a few…interesting medical projects that I think you’ll take a liking to. Do you feel up to it?”

“Of course, Doctor!”

Bashir nodded. “That’s good to hear. Now…shall we begin?”

Tarses nodded quickly—and stopped as he saw Ezri, still sitting on the cot.

Ezri stood up. “Oh—am I in your way?”

Simon shook his head violently. “No, no, no—not at all. I’m just…surprised to see you there…I guess.”

“Oh, I was talking to Dr. Bashir about something. I’ll be going now.” She headed for the doorway, stopped, turned back to the man, and added, “I’ll see you after your shift, then?”

“Uh—yes. Ah…you’re office, at—”

“No need. Just head to your quarters, and be ready, okay?”

“Of course, Counselor.”

After Ezri left, Bashir headed for his main computer console. “All right, Dr. Tarses. I have here…” as he pulled up an image on the screen, “…a sample of a new pathogen recently discovered on Bajor Seven.”

Tarses frowned, as he sat down right after Bashir. “Harmful to sentient life?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out. You’ve had some prior experience with pathogens, am I correct?”

“I’m not downplaying—” Simon stopped, as his gaze fell, as if it were directed inward. After a moment, he corrected himself, “Yes…I guess I am.”

“You’ve been doing that a great deal, I’ve noticed.”

“…Yes, I have….”

“Frankly, is there a reason for that—or is it just part of your fatalistic outlook on things?”

“I-I don’t…know what you mean.”

“You seem to be so focused on your failures…that you dare not reflect on your successes.”

Tarses said nothing.

Bashir sighed, and turned his seat, so that he completely faced the other man. “Lieutenant…has it ever occurred to you that sometimes…all that truly matters is what you have accomplished in life—not what you did wrong?”

The man shrugged. “Well…I guess that…all everyone’s ever done for a long time…is focus precisely on what I did wrong.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. But, for a time, after it was discovered that I was genetically enhanced…there were many people who…expressed concerns over me.”

“You’re…genetically enhanced?”

Bashir chuckled. “You know, that’s funny—because I’d have thought that would’ve been common knowledge, by now.”

Tarses gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Uh…maybe it is, Doctor. But…I must admit, I didn’t read that much about you before I came here….”

Bashir smiled again. “Nor I you.”

Tarses frowned. “Pardon?”

“Simon…I think you may have figured this out by now, but…if it helps you to know this…I didn’t read your record…or anything about your ‘suspension’…until after I accepted you into my team. All I knew…was that you were a good doctor. And that’s all that matters.”

Simon spoke in the tone of whisper. “You…you mean that?”

“Of course. You see…whenever I make an addition to my staff, I always ask myself this one question: Is this person good? I wouldn’t dare settle for anyone mediocre…or less than mediocre. No…I always look for those who have accomplished things in there medical career, because I want the most well-run, most efficient, most successful Infirmary possible. It’s the same line of thought that leads one to choose the most effective medicine—the best supplies for an office—the least contaminated food to eat.

“I want the best—and as far as I was concerned, you are among the best. Any questions?”

Bashir had asked the last question with a flippant tone, which Tarses responded to with a brief, uneasy smirk. “I…guess not.”

Bashir felt his smile widen. “That’s good. Now…shall we go on?”

Tarses nodded. “Of course.”

As they went over the records of the pathogen, and discussed and debated all the possibilities, Bashir marveled, once again, at the professionalism of Simon Tarses. Despite the pain he had gone through, nothing could stifle his ability, his loyalty, his love of his work.

I'll get the bad stuff out of the way first. Once Ezri had started counselling young Dr. Tarses then she really shouldn't be discussing his case with anyone, not even his immediate superior. Client confidentiality is an essential part of any counselling process.

In addition, a well meaning intervention by someone untrained in counselling techniques can often go badly wrong. Doctor Bashir could have made the situation a lot worse with his attempts to prop up Tarses' self respect, though fortunately it didn't play out that way.

Having said that, I can't really imagine any dramatic value in a more realistic approach, so I'm going to let this go because I'm enjoying the story itself. And whilst it may be a breach of professional ethics, it's nowhere near as bad as TNG's episode 'Tin Man', with Deanna Troi blurting out 'No. He was my patient!' in front of the entire bridge crew.

Despite that, a come to praise this fanfic, not to bury it. Whilst I may quibble over some of the details, it is consistently well written (although could do perhaps with slightly fewer italics). The dialogue rings true and I can easily imagine the actors saying the lines.

And I'm glad we seem to have gotten an explanation for the rather odd title, which does fit the DS9 style.

^Yeah...I had realized the awkwardness of having Bashir "help out" early on, but I also knew that, as Bashir had gone through some similar conflicts, his help would be very essential. Hence, I had Ezri, at the beginning of the scene, give Julian some instructions on what to do. She's confident that he'd be able to fill in the blanks....

I would say that, as a rule, Ezri is not as "orthodox" as most counselors would be. Thus, her methods would seem rather strange at times. Still...as the story shows, they do prove to be effective--perhaps because of the unusual pattern. Perhaps she's given Julian some training in the field--for these kinds of situations....

Still...I'd also made sure to aknowledge the awkwardness in the Quark's Bar scene. Now, as Simon knows of Bashir's involvement--and has been reassured a bit about this in said bar scene--most, if not all, of the awkwardness should be gone....

Thanks for the thoughts!

As for the title...it's technically based on a line from Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead. The hero of the book has a similar conversation with a newfound friend of his, in a somewhat similar situation.